Squeak
by P.A.W.07
Summary: It seems Primus does have a sense of humor. Not that Megatron thinks it's funny making him this short and helpless, but he supposes it makes sense since the Allspark is suppose to make life. Why would it ever take it away? '07verse. Oneshot.


Squeak: It seems Primus does have a sense of humor. Not that Megatron thinks it's funny. In fact, it's downright cruel making him this short … and helpless, but he supposes it makes sense since the Allspark is suppose to make life. Why would it ever take it away? '07Movieverse. Oneshot.

Rating: Teen

Disclaimer: If only, if only, the little plot bunny sings.

XXX

It is perhaps in dismay,

a soldier in his fray,

found a soft bundled babe

in the water's waves.

Yet while he reached down below,

to save the child from the undertow,

his fingers merely touched the shivering waves.

And he found that he was the babe,

looking at himself,

he was pulled beneath the waves.

...

Steam and smoke rose from the city in a dying fog, the blackness not willing to give in to defeat as if wishing to grasp the twilight and last forever. Or perhaps the smoke was merely trying to flee from the city now bathed in the blood and energon and defeated: the battle for Mission City had been over and won by the Autobots. The Allspark was decimated during a grasp for its freedom. So, not only had the life bearer of the species disappeared in a shimmering breath, but Megatron's men had been destroyed as well. The Autobots had only lost one mech.

Perhaps, that was why he was staring at the sky with his dull optics, the smoke nipping at the ever blue coloring. He could see no defeat there, no signs of the truth that had had just happened. Slowly, as if in acceptance, his gaze drifting over the scene and he was able to state, without a shadow of a doubt, that it had been the Autobot's battle. One could even say that the war had dropped its head in tiredness, ending its long reign, and no one could say a thing otherwise … not even Megatron himself.

In fact, all he could do was watched as they dragged away his true body.

It had been a curious feeling as the fleshling slammed the Allspark into his chest; its powered engulfing his spark as if it were little more than a candle falling into the ocean's waves. It had been so wonderful and painful at the same time that he didn't know if he should have cried out or sighed in relief. Even now he didn't know if he should have screamed out in agony or sighed. In truth, he was more upset with the new 'situation' than happy. He would admit he was thankful for being alive … even if now he was in a sparkling protoform barely even four feet tall.

After all, the Allspark created life. Why would it ever destroy any of its children?

Not that that comforted Megatron any. He had little, if even any, armor. Cybertronian sparklings had twice as much mass as this so he could tell that he wasn't in a designed sparkling body, but some makeshift piece of crap the Allspark had probably made in a hurry. Looking over himself he couldn't help but wonder if he had really been this helpless once? Had he really been this small? Had he always felt cold, tired, and hungry like this? This was terrible. It was almost horrible enough to make him want to cry. A soft click escaped the warlord turned sparkling, and he quickly threw his hand over his mouth, his optics turning worriedly in the direction of the medic in the street. He shivered internally. Ratchet was now looking around suspiciously, his scanners bouncing around the area like waves against the beach.

Megatron trembled at the thought of being found in such a weakened state and quickly looked for a place to hide. It was swiftly revealed that he was limited on his range of choices in the dank alley and with a grimace he chose a grime covered dumpster, climbing into it like a frightened rat. The sparkling sat there for a moment in the dark and decay. After he was sure that the medic had given up his search did Megatron look back out at the warzone. The medic was back to his patients. Thank Primus. Medics would give up at nothing to find a sparkling if they heard one clicking in distress. They were worse than femmes.

Another sobbing click escaped the now-sparkling and Ratchet's head perked up once more making it seem that this time he was going to put some real effort into looking, but the legless one's whines at the medic pulled him away from his probable search, the green mech kneeling back down to his work.

With an almost silent whimper, Megatron dropped back into the bin, hands over his vocalize, rubbing his neck as he willed it silent. Why had he just been sad? Weakness couldn't be tolerated and femmes were so weak that they seemed to be extinct before the first vorn of the war had dragged itself out. They were weak … and the primary caretakers of sparklings in the Youth Centers. W-was that why he clicked like that? Primus, did he have sparkling programs?

Slag, after a quick check, he could tell that he did. In fact, he was missing a large amount of files like weapons training and flight capabilities. It was as if he were a real sparkling except for the fact that he had his old memories … well, most of them at least. There seemed to be some deletion. Not that that was terribly surprising. His memory banks weren't as large, and he'd probably lose some more until he was able to get a real body back. Yes, this was only temporary. He'd find some way to contact Soundwave or Shockwave - while managing to ignore Starscream – and have them make him a new body. Till then, he needed to hide … and rest. He couldn't recall ever being this tired. Maybe it had something to do with his new body. He couldn't stress-out such a young form. It required constant rest and care. Ugh, he'd worry about such things in a few hours. Right now he was so tired.

Throwing one more glance at his real body and the Autobots to make sure they weren't in his alley, Megatron curled up into a ball and allowed recharge to take him. Perhaps, maybe just maybe, he would wake up on the Nemesis, this whole happening nothing more than a distant dream.

Though he knew dreams were for the weak.

Which is what he was, wasn't it?

XXX

Ratchet rubbed the back of his head, his systems groaning as they demanded rest, but Prime still needed attention. He had taken quite a beating from Megatron. Plus, Ratchet would probably need to initiate a spark-block treatment to make sure the spark didn't suffer or even die from a lost spark-bond.

Megatron was Optimus's brother after all.

Not that one would know from simple observation. What Megatron did … was unforgivable. Not only did he destroy Cybertron, caused the deaths of most if not all the femmes, and the Youth Centers, but he betrayed his brother. It was a fact that sickened Ratchet the first time he had watched Optimus and Megatron fight. It was as if they weren't even family anymore with the way Megatron threw his punches, but the bond would have stated differently.

Ratchet sighed as he looked over at his leader who was leaning against the wall of the hanger they were now resting in. Part of him didn't want to go over to Prime, wondering if he could just recharge next to the youngling and heal his own wounds and weariness. Primus, he was so tired today he was sure he had heard a sparkling today.

Though that was a ridiculous. Trying to defended itself, it made attack drones, not sparklings.

Regardless, it would go against his duty to rest there. He had to take care of his Prime.

Sighing, Ratchet stood up and looked over his Prime. He hated putting mechs through spark blockers. It was sickening to look at a spark reach outward, shivering against the casing as it called out to its lost one. And then the spark would hold itself there, shivering from the stress before it was forced to pull itself back together, only to repeat the processes again. Many a mechs had died from this since their spark faded from the continued stress. It would have to be done.

"Prime," said Ratchet as he stepped away from the recharging youngling, making his way across the hanger and to his leader's side. Optimus had a lot of bent and damaged armor, but he didn't seem to have any leaking wounds anymore. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. My wounds mostly hinder my transformation sequence, but were otherwise minimal," said Optimus, his gaze traveling over to the sleeping youngling.

"Good. Now, how are you feeling-feeling?" said the medic as he scanned over the leader, checking for additional injuries.

Optimus titled his head, looking up from his paint-scrapped palms and up at his CMO, "Whatever do you mean, Ratchet?"

The medic sighed as he pulled out a welder and started to fix the knee joint on his patient. It was not uncommon for mechs to deny the pain, because a small part of them still believed that their bond was still alive, not wanting a medic to initiate a spark-block. Optimus may have been a Prime, but he was still just a mech with the spark of a mech. He still loved his brother; there was no doubt in Ratchet's CPU about that.

"Come now Optimus. You know I have to do this. Don't make me call in Ironhide to restrain you. I have to put up a spark block so your spark doesn't fade from the stress of the _call_," said Ratchet as he stopped his repairs and looked the Prime in the optic, noticing just how he twitched at the word spark-block. It was not an uncommon reaction for mechs about to receive one. It meant they had to face the fact that someone they had a bond – brother, sibling, or mate – with was indeed dead. But, despite how Ratchet hated to have to do it, it was better than allowing the living member to die. The spark would just fade if it kept calling out for the other to answer to his or her half of the spark bond. The _ache_ was for the best; it was better than death.

Optimus put a hand over his chest, the ache from its old lost companions setting in for a moment, before he shook it off, "W-why would I do that to my brother? I know I saw him die, Ratchet, but I did not feel his presence being ripped from my spark. Ratchet, I don't think he's …"

Ratchet threw out an arm and tightened a grip on his commander's shoulder. The medic gave him a knowing look, having heard this excuse a thousand times, mechs and femmes not ready to give up on the ones that they had loved, "I know, Prime. Sometimes, especially with strained bonds like between your brother and you, can be weak and the backlash may seem to not exist at first, but the calling will come. Come now; please just lie down. Your brother is dead … but you are still here and we need you."

Optimus felt his spark ache at the words of the medic. It was true. Megatron had all but locked up his part of the bond and Optimus had not felt the bond of his brother in ages. It haunted him for the longest time, that empty ache. Offlining his optics and then turning them back on to eye the medic, he sighed and stated in such a soft whisper, "You are right, Ratchet. It had been so very long since I have felt my brother's spark. It would make sense that I couldn't feel him. But a part of me can't help but feel Megatron isn't dead."

Ratchet nodded as he helped the leader lean back, readying the larger mech to have his chassis open. It was normal for mechs to deny the loss of loved ones. Megatron may have been a slagger that finally got what he deserved, but that didn't mean that Optimus still didn't love him.

"Now just hold still, Prime. This still may hurt at first," stated the medic as the huge chassis opened, the spark glaring up at medic in a bath of light.

Yet as a frown covered Ratchet's features, the Prime couldn't help but worry.

"W-what's wrong?" his voice struggling not to sound strained.

The green medic couldn't help but frown, his voice confused, "The bond… isn't broken. T-that can't be right. His body is… offline."

The two turned their eyes to a tarp in the far corner where the soldier's remains laid… ready for disposal. He was dead.

Swallowing, not knowing what else to say because Megatron was indeed offline, Ratchet stated as he closed the chassis, "I-it happens sometimes. Sometimes, a bond can be so weak it may take a while for the bond to notice the other is… gone. I'll check on you in a few days, okay?"

Optimus nodded, not allowing Ratchet to see him turn his head just slightly so he could see the tarp… where his brother was lying. He ran a hand over his chassis, frowning. The deepest part of him felt that his brother was not dead. That now was a second chance… but what do the dead need with second chances anyway?

Not knowing what else to do, he offlined his optics, willing away the feeling that his brother was not dead but cold and in need of him.

Megatron was nothing but a rusting corpse. His brother was gone.

XXX

Paw07: Meg's is a Sparkling. If there's one thing I love almost as much as Barricade torture, its Megatron torture. Anyway, it's just a short oneshot though it had originally been up as a multi-chapter. Never got around to it so I took it down. But if I did continue, I'm sure we would have seen a lot of mental contemplation as he struggled to keep his memories, hiding, ankle biting, Ratchet cooing, and hissy fits in the future. Either way, I don't know if I'll ever have time to get back to it so enjoy this oneshot at least.

Note: generally, I put all my stuff in the transformers/beastwar section but I usually just do that because they all have characters from the continuity mentioned, but since this is going to be a one-shot with no connection to those, I'll put it in the movie section. :)


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